


A Sprig of Belladonna

by goldenwatcher



Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: Aro Challenge, Gen, M/M, Multi, She/Her Pronouns for Beelzebub (Good Omens), so much garden
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-09
Updated: 2020-05-18
Packaged: 2021-03-03 04:01:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 11,238
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24098491
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/goldenwatcher/pseuds/goldenwatcher
Summary: Beelzebub does not miss Crowley.  She's just so BORED.  When she hunts the two down to their South Downs cottage, she's surprised by the welcome she gets and the impressive garden she sees.  Crowley offers to show her a thing or two about gardening, and she decides to accept.~~Written for The Aro Way Challenge prompt #11: Crowley teaches Beelzebub how to grow/care for plants.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley & Beelzebub, Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens), Beelzebub & Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 25
Kudos: 78
Collections: The Aro Way Challenge 2020





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> An idea popped into my head and I wanted to see this through. Hopefully, you all enjoy it.

Beelzebub was bored.

There were only so many demons Beelzebub handled directly. Much of the rest of her time was taking orders from Satan and forcing other people to do the tasks she’d been given. Of course, she wasn’t stupid enough to depend on others when it was her feathers on the line. She did as commanded anyways, usually in half the time of the idiots she’d assigned them to. It was delightful to watch them struggle and panic needlessly as she sprawled on her throne and glared. Beelzebub had tried this trick on Crowley once. The slick bastard had suggested that she do the task to please Satan since her resources were greater than his and he would go Upstairs and start a cult to sweeten their king’s mood. Curious, she’d agreed, and it had actually worked.

But she wasn’t thinking about Crowley.

Beelzebub enjoyed using female pronouns. Gender was stupid even for humans, but it was ludicrous for demons. Still, for whatever reason, people had perceptions of individuals based on their pronouns. Beelzebub chose the female ones because it made people underestimate her: mostly human souls, but demons screwed up on occasion. She still used the titles Lord and Prince, which tripped up those who spent more time Above. It really hurt their brains when she fancied herself in a mood and demanded Lady and Princess. Then, given a sufficient amount of time to let their guards drop, she would demand an explanation for the precious, cutesy titles. For those who thought themselves smart enough not to fall for that, she would ask with saccharine sweetness why her chosen titles were not good enough for them. For some reason, Crowley had never fallen for that trap. He had always blithely switched between pronouns and titles, practically reading her mind. In fact, he’d always been rather spectacular at sensing her moods, his pomp and sarcasm never quite enough to truly piss her off.

Bless the Serpent, she was thinking of him again! Of course she didn’t like Crowley, and she certainly didn’t miss him. Beelzebub was just so  _ bored _ . Crowley was irritating but also often entertaining with his strange, ridiculous plans that somehow  _ worked _ . He was both a terrible and excellent demon. It had been intriguing at times to consider the far reaches of his plans. Despite his current poor standing in Hell, the M25 was still considered a masterpiece for others to aspire to.

It wasn’t that Beelzebub was unaware of his bullshit reports. Crowley hadn’t a violent bone in his body, so the idea that he created the Spanish Inquisition was preposterous. However, Beelzebub gave him the commendation anyway and watched with glee as he drank himself near to discorporation over it. She might have nudged things herself on occasion just to blame it on him and watch how he would try to graciously accept credit while squirming in horror.

All of that was over now. Crowley hadn’t been back to Hell since the holy water incident and the Dark Council was essentially ignoring his existence. When someone complained, and they inevitably did, they were told they too could leave just as soon as they survived their own holy water bath. No one had yet to take the offer.

Beelzebub often thought about the trial. Something had been odd, something she couldn’t put her finger on. Crowley had never been so calm as to securely threaten them, having the foresight to include Michael in his devious suggestion. He just didn’t have the spine for it. Perhaps it was the principality’s good influence.

Aziraphale. Beelzebub’s flies buzzed angrily at the thought of the angel. It had never occurred to her that Crowley might stoop low enough to make friends with his adversary. It was like Satan having tea with God: the thought was too disturbing to say, even for Hell. She’d tried to learn more about the angel from Gabriel, but he’d been more interested in finding out the secret of their survival while ignoring that Aziraphale even existed. Michael had been the one to explain how the principality was stuffy, enthralled with books and food, and rather lacking in either originality or boldness, despite his excellent war record. Heaven was as horrified by their partnership as Hell.

There had been something about the angel though. He had been the one to question the connection between the Great Plan and the Ineffable Plan, so he wasn’t as dull as Heaven assumed. Beelzebub also knew that Crowley, despite being in Satan’s upper circle, had only had a casual association with the Rebellion and didn’t hold much with their roles as Adversary to God and Heaven. He liked being a demon; the sins continued to roll in even if he wasn’t on Hell’s payroll anymore. He just didn’t like the cruelties. Beelzebub wondered what the angel thought of Crowley’s bleeding heart. Perhaps he liked it. She really didn’t get their relationship.

“My Lord?” a voice interrupted her thoughts tentatively.

Beelzebub focused on the crowd of demons around her, eyes landing on the one giving the presentation. Of course they had to replace Crowley, and she already knew that this demon was not the right fit either. “What?” she demanded.

“Do you approve?” the demon asked, tensing to run.

“I wasn’t listening. Start over. I have something to look into.” She stood.

“But everyone else already--”

She ignored the protest and headed out of the meeting. She was tired of replaying the same questions over and over in her mind. She wanted answers.


	2. Chapter 2

Hunting down the duo was a little more difficult than she’d anticipated. They both had a base of operations that was on record with their respective sides, but it appeared that both locations had been abandoned. She could still pick out Crowley’s scent around London, but it was weak. He probably hadn’t been there for a few days. Beelzebub learned the scent of the angel that was practically embedded in the abandoned shop in Soho, but his scent was probably a day older than Crowley’s.

Not currently having other options, Beelzebub exploded into a cloud of flies and took off after Crowley’s scent. It became more difficult to find just outside of the flat in Mayfair, but what she could pick out headed south. Switching out for her faster wings, she soared toward the southern shores of England. If this didn’t work, she’d pop below and use the resources there to track the angel. It was easier to pin angelic activities down Below.

She didn’t get very far until she felt a bright tingle in her feathers. Beelzebub paused in the air, considering the sensation. It was far too incandescent to be a demon, and she didn’t sense a demon or angel within fifty kilometers of her in any direction. However, the spell tickled her senses like an effervescent beverage. Beelzebub narrowed her eyes and carefully followed the sensation. She had hit the northern edge of the town that held the sensation when she picked up their scents. At the southern end of town, away from the humans and on the edge of a line of trees, a one-lane road lead to a cottage. The building was spacious with a lush garden surrounding it and a backdrop of trees. The incandescence was angelic magic keeping the presence of the infernal and celestial tenants hidden. Beelzebub landed on the front porch and folded away her wings, narrowing her eyes. She considered the door, but it appeared that the shroud was the only spell. She unlocked the door and stepped inside.

The cottage had a small foyer to settle one’s jacket and shoes. Beyond opened into a spacious kitchen that appeared to have more use than she would have guessed. She could see a sofa farther down the hall and stairs leading up to the next level. It was homey and warm with a mix of antique and modern furnishings that were surprisingly attractive together. She sneered in disgust.

“Crowley? You’re back rather quickly, aren’t--”

The voice cut off as Beelzebub turned to the top of the stairs. There stood the angel, staring at her with a delightful expression of horror. He looked perfectly cozy in the wood-paneled, well-lit hall except for the broken wine glass and a red liquid that spilled over the stair, stained his slippers, and spotted his trousers.

Beelzebub was unimpressed. “Where’s Crowley?” she demanded.

Aziraphale smoothed trembling hands over his waistcoat before he flicked his fingers down at the floor then toward the kitchen. The glass and wine disappeared. Beelzebub didn’t bother to look where they ended up. “Crowley told me that you swore to leave us alone,” he said, voice careful and precise.

“I’m a demon. We lie; you might have noticed.”

“So the Prince of Hell wastes her time fetching one lowly demon herself?”

“Princess,” she corrected absently as she considered him. It would have been a good question were she officially there. She wondered how many of Hell’s secrets Crowley might have shared with the angel, but it couldn’t have been much. “I can do what I want to with one lowly demon,” she sneered. “Don’t exactly report to you, now do I?”

Aziraphale had slowly started down the stairs, his expression not registering her correction. At Beelzebub’s ribbing, his eyes flicked up to her. There was something there, something assessing, a hardness that was less Earth-softened angel and more Principality of the Lord. It marked him as a divine soldier in every way that she had not heard in reports. It was the look of someone who knew they had God at their back and they were trying to decide if they needed to make that fact known. It made Beelzebub tense, her own eyes narrowing. She wondered if, maybe, she should have listened more to Gabriel’s whining. Another part of her thought it might be fun to rip him apart, but it would certainly piss off Crowley.

“No, you don’t rather,” he said, his voice soft. “He has gone to retrieve some take-out, I’m afraid. Can I offer you a drink?”

There was something ridiculous about the fact that this angel had dared look at her as if he was considering smiting her, then decided to simply be hospitable. Maybe he knew he could not win in a fight between her. He didn’t seem worried, and that assessing expression hadn’t quite left his face. Beelzebub was starting to find him rather annoying. “You do know you’re not supposed to be polite to us, right?”

“Whyever not?” he asked. He stepped past her into the kitchen to retrieve another glass and poured a short amount of wine.

“Because we’re adversaries.” Perhaps he was just dense. She was beginning to understand Gabriel’s frustrations.

“As I recall, I no longer work for Heaven,” he replied, walking back over to her. “And since Crowley no longer works for Hell, I can only assume this is a social call and thus niceties should be observed.” Aziraphale’s smile was faint but his hand steady as he offered her the glass.

Beelzebub eyed him, slightly unnerved by the cross between cold assessment and almost warm hospitableness. She eyed the glass as if she expected the angel to poison her. Rather than take it, she focused on the scent of it. The liquid was vaguely sweet, rather tart, and bitter. It certainly wasn’t her favorite smell. “Haven’t you ever heard of hard liquor?”

“Of course,” he responded. “But the variety of flavors with the lower alcohol content means one can savor more wine for longer. We do have scotch or whiskey if you would prefer.”

She snorted and walked away, pacing deeper into the house. The next room had a sofa and a couple of armchairs, plenty of room for lounging around. There was an enormous television, most certainly Crowley’s doing, and a pile of books on one of the side tables. The entire place felt like an easy blend between modern emptiness and antique fullness, making it almost perfectly cozy. It was kind of disgusting.

The angel was a few steps back, following her through the house without complaint. It was starting to eat at her temper until she came across a mudroom with muddy workwear. That didn’t interest Beelzebub as much as the view through the windows. The door led out to the large garden she had seen when arriving and she went outside, somewhat curious as to what she’d find.

Beelzebub had seen Eden a grand total of one time. She’d been there before her fall to give an order to one of the angels leading the build. It had been quite the sight to her at the time, although its dedication to Humanity had made its verdant beauty disappointing. The garden Crowley and his angel maintained was as similar as only two beings who had been there could accomplish. It was perhaps more colorful than Eden in some places, but also lushly green. There were plenty of locations of flowers and vegetables, vines, and a small orchard with a couple of different fruits, including a single apple tree. Beelzebub couldn’t quite figure out why she liked it. Perhaps it was because this garden was not for humans, was solely the property of a demon and his chosen consort. She peered at one of the roses that climbed a trellis arching over the path. To her delight, the plant trembled at her presence and the flower bloomed even wider as she watched.

The sound of speeding wheels over the road caught the attention of both immortals. Crowley’s Bentley pulled up to the cottage, the vehicle barely sliding to a stop before he was out of it, heading toward the front door, absolutely terrified.

“We’re by the rose arch, Crowley,” Aziraphale called out from a stone bench. He’d seated himself there to watch Beelzebub explore the garden.

Crowley lept the gate, maneuvering the garden with a familiarity brought from building it. He froze at the sight of Beelzebub, the prince studying him coldly. Crowley’s power was poised like a serpent ready to strike, body tensed for movement. He seemed rather startled at seeing Aziraphale a short distance from Beelzebub, calmly sipping from a glass of wine.

Beelzebub sneered at the display of power, though she rather enjoyed watching it. It wasn’t often that Crowley took a truly aggressive approach, often smoothly talking his way around things. He was exotic and venomous and somewhat stirring in the way others weren’t. “Do you really think you could do anything before I could kill him?” she taunted him.

Aziraphale spoke, but his words were drowned out by Crowley’s hiss, fangs flashing. She paused at the sight of them. Crowley hadn’t a violent bone in his body, which was most of the reason why he avoided an aggressive approach. Despite that, he had bitten another demon precisely once, and the things had screamed for years until the venom had finally worked its way out of his system. Crowley only had fangs when he was afraid. The display meant that he was absolutely terrified for the angel and considered Beelzebub a true threat, nevermind that the principality could possibly turn them both to cinders. Strangely, Beelzebub was not enjoying this level of fear as much as she thought she would. More so, the angel’s presence and how much it meant to Crowley was very much beginning to aggravate her.

“You will be silent, Serpent,” she commanded, becoming annoyed.

“I really don’t think--”

“I don’t work for you, remember?” Crowley snarled.

“My dear--”

“You dare threaten me? Flash your fangs at me?” she buzzed.

“Lady Beelze--”

“Yes, I dare! This is my home and you’re not welcome here!”

That cut. She bared her own teeth and stalked forward.

At two paces, the light from the sun was suddenly drowned out by something white, blinding, and holy. It was the type of cold that burned, a warmth that sparked and sizzled as it bit at the skin. She zipped back with an irate buzz even as she heard Crowley hiss and stumble.

“I suspect,” the principality stated, his voice firm and clipped, “that if one demon and one angel can be in a room without violence, then surely two demons can do the same.” The light disappeared, leaving after-images in both demons’ eyes. “Now, Lady Beelzebub was looking for you, Crowley, and she was going to tell us why.”

“Lady,” Beelzebub snarled, but before she could continue, Aziraphale spoke up.

“My apologies, Highness,” he said smoothly, cutting off her complaint.

Beelzebub peered at him, scowling and turning the term over in her head. How had he come up with that solution in less than a breath of time? He was very, very annoying. “Don’t think Gabriel would approve using divine light to stop an argument,” she buzzed.

Aziraphale’s answering smile was thin. “I don’t answer to Heaven. I answer to God. I’ve noticed that She is quite capable of making Her opinions known.”

“What, are you going to smite us if we don’t behave?”

“Your Highness, I didn’t stop a fight between you and Crowley just to start one myself.” Besides sounding rather disapproving, Aziraphale was the picture of calm.

Beelzebub couldn’t get a bead on the angel. She’d spent so long dealing with demons that angels were harder to grasp. Then again, Gabriel was as deep as a kiddie pool, so perhaps Aziraphale was as odd as Crowley.

A glance sideways told her that Crowley was looking at the angel with a somewhat wounded expression, appearing faintly betrayed. She could tell that at least a tiny part of his malcontent was true.

Noticing Beelzebub’s glance, Crowley’s expression cleared. “So, not that it isn’t always a pleasure, Lord Beelzebub, but why are you here?”

Beelzebub sneered. “You’re so whipped?”

To her surprise, Crowley’s reaction was to merely look bored. “No whips. This isn’t Hell, which is rather the point. You’ll notice he’s not a demon.”

“I understand that barbs and sarcasm are rather a second language in Hell,” Aziraphale interrupted. “However, perhaps if we set that aside for now, we might get farther in our discussion.”

“Our?” Beelzebub snorted. “You just happen to be here.”

“She’s bored,” Crowley stepped in, looking bland. Beelzebub’s gaze snapped to him and he shrugged. “‘S rather obvious.”

“Bored?” Aziraphale asked, confused.

“Bored demons will torture just to be entertained by the screams,” the Serpent pointed out. His hands slid as far into the pockets of his tight jeans as far as they could fit and he rocked slightly on his heels. “Is there something in particular you’re looking for?” he asked her. “‘S not really my job to entertain you anymore.”

Beelzebub seethed, trying to figure out how to get what she wanted without admitting she missed the Serpent. When she hesitated too long, the angel spoke up.

“Perhaps we can come up with something besides torture.” Aziraphale looked around a moment thinking while both demons blinked at him in surprise. “You said you were fond of hard liquor and you enjoyed the plants, yes?”

Crowley looked askance as Beelzebub. She scowled at him and fought to keep her shoulders down away from her ears. “Why are they so afraid?” she asked.

Crowley’s blink of surprise was obvious, even behind the sunglasses. Suddenly, his entire expression lit up even as Aziraphale sighed. Crowley gestured for Beelzebub to follow and he grabbed some tools from the mudroom. Once he started prowling the garden, the plants began to tremble in terror.

“There was some junk in a magazine a few years back,” Crowley said, carefully starting to examine the plants. “Said that talking to plants helps them to grow.”

“Talk to them?” She was both incredulous and disappointed. It sounded stupid.

“First rule of talking to plants is never let the angel do it.”

“I heard that,” Aziraphale called from the Bently.

Crowley ignored him. “He always says some bunk about how lovely they are and they let their guard down.” He pushed the sunglasses to the top of his head, his eyes flicking over the various flowers. His whole aura turned sinister and critical as he studied them, in a way Beelzebub rarely saw from him. “Don’t you?” he hissed and the trembling around them increased.

He used the hose to gently water a few of the plants, eyeing the soil and their posture. Then he offered the hose to Beelzebub. She took it and stared at it, then at the plants. Curious, she mimicked his actions, distributing water.

He nodded then turned to the climbing roses Beelzebub had examined earlier. His long fingers traced over the leaves and petals, his touch a mere whisper. “I also examine them for pests and spots. Sometimes they get brown spots. If they are so weak, then they don’t deserve to be here.”

“What do you do with them then?” she asked, a bit eager.

“They get shredded in the shed.” He looked up at the roses and sneered at them. “Don’t you?”

If a plant could cry, they would have been sobbing. Beelzebub was delighted.

“I didn’t think you had this in you, Crowley.”

He looked sideways at her. “You have to give them the chance to give you what you want without interrupting. You can’t rip the leaves off to prove your point or because you’re bored. If you do, they don’t understand what you want.”

Beelzebub scoffed but Crowley shook his head. “No spots; no brown or wilting pieces. But if you rip off a leaf, the stem becomes damaged and browns and wilts. This is exactly what you don’t want and you caused it so they lose the fear and fall into despair. You have to keep them afraid, not make them lose hope.”

It was a psychological torturing tutorial. Beelzebub was loving it. She carefully watered the next batch as Crowley examined them. The Serpent showed her how much water each area needed and explained soil nutrition and drainage. When she asked just how wet the ground should be, he actually glared at the soil. “As much as it’s supposed to be.”

The only strange thing was the angel. Aziraphale had shouted from the Bently, but when she next looked, he was back on the bench with a small tray of refreshments. He was drinking from the wine he’d had from earlier, but there were two glasses of brown liquor on the tray with a wide variety of little hors d'oeuvres on it. He watched them move about the garden, expression calm, but eyes with the same intense focus he’d had before. Beelzebub had been a general during the War. She knew a soldier when she saw one. The angel hadn’t been this tense during Armageddon. She couldn’t figure out why he was pulling the Angel of the Lord routine now. If she wasn’t sure Crowley would lose his mind at the angel’s death, she would have been tempted to challenge him.

Ultimately, she didn’t have to. Crowley finally glanced over, eyebrows quirked. “Or you could just let an angel scare your plants shitless.”

Aziraphale’s gaze flicked to Crowley, his lips thinning slightly. “I won’t raise my voice to defenseless flora, my dear.”

“You don’t have to. The whole ‘soldier of God’ schtick is making them more afraid of you than me, which is just insulting.”

“Perhaps we might have a chat, Crowley?”

“No need,” Beelzebub interrupted smoothly. “You are wondering when I’m going to stab him in the back.”

That something in the principality’s eyes that spoke of God’s wrath hardened. “Quite,” he agreed. “You did try to drown him in holy water.”

“Gabriel still cries himself to sleep at night over your execution,” she observed.

Crowley scowled. “Gabriel can take his horn and shove it,” he hissed.

“How did you two pull that off?” she asked casually.

Both raised their eyebrows. “Sorry, Beelzebub,” Crowley said. “That’s one secret you’re never going to hear.”

“I expected you to slither out of the execution,” she replied with a shrug. “Immunity to holy water was not exactly something we anticipated.”

“You expected him to talk his way out of it?” Aziraphale asked. His disbelief was palpable.

“He’s the Serpent of Eden. His tongue has always been his best feature.” She smirked at Crowley. “Or so I hear. Besides, isn’t it in your nature to forgive?”

The angel’s eyebrows rose even higher as Crowley burst out laughing. “Oh, Satan,” he gasped. “That’s a good one. I think his build had a little less forgiveness and a touch more divine vengeance.”

“So what if it does? What are you going to about it?” Beelzebub taunted him.

Crowley’s humor fled immediately, but Aziraphale cut off his reply. “What is it you want?” the angel asked. “You agreed you’d stay away--”

“I lied,” she interrupted.

“As I noticed,” Aziraphale continued smoothly. “What I don’t understand is why. If it is due to boredom, how much danger is Crowley in?”

“What makes you think its Crowley who’s in danger?” Beelzebub buzzed.

“You kill one of us, you’re going to have to kill both of us,” Crowley stated, zero humor or exaggeration in his tone.”

Beelzebub narrowed her eyes at him, perplexed by their devotion. The angel didn’t correct his words. If they killed one, the other would seek vengeance, but they weren’t powerful enough to succeed, so they would die. She didn’t get it. As much as she was annoyed that Crowley was loyal to someone over her, as much as that devotion bothered her, she was also intrigued by it. She decided that she would rather like to study it further.

Beelzebub looked back at the plants. “I want to learn how to terrify the flora, as you said.”

Crowley’s brow furrowed as he glanced at Aziraphale. “You want to learn to garden?” he asked dubiously.

“Where do you intend to keep your plants?” Aziraphale asked, bemused. “They will need sunlight so they won’t thrive in Hell, no matter how you torture them.”

It was a good question. Her first instinct was to claim territory here, but there truly wasn’t a lot of space, and Crowley might get unpleasant over sharing his garden. “I will need to be close,” she said, pacing along the cobblestone paths in the garden. “So that Crowley can assist me as I learn.” She cocked her head, noticing the empty area past their small orchard. “Perhaps there?” She looked at them.

Aziraphale glanced at Crowley. “Do we own that land?”

He scratched his cheek thoughtfully. “I’ll have to check the deed. Don’t think so, but shouldn’t be too hard acquiring it. Besides, it’s going to depend a lot on what kind of plants we’re talking about.” He looked at Beelzebub. “I don’t suppose you have an idea?”

“If I may,” Aziraphale interrupted. “Why not look more thoroughly around the garden while Crowley and I discuss logistics, hmm?”

Beelzebub glanced at him, but then took the bait and began wandering. She certainly did study the plants but paid far more attention to listening in on their discussion.

“Crowley, do you truly want the Prince of Hell in our back garden? She tried to kill you,” Aziraphale asked softly.

Crowley sounded less concerned. “I mean, yeah. Having Hell in our back pockets isn’t ideal, but Beelzebub is the prince for a reason. If she wants something done, only God and Satan are going to stop her.”

“Which makes me curious as to why she’s even here.”

“The thing about Beelzebub is that she’s very clever. She could spin circles around everyone, but Hell just doesn’t work that way. It’s slow and tedious and part of that is the design, but part of that is the torture of it all. She gets bored, angel; hellishly bored. She torments people to alleviate it.”

“And now she’s here to torment us?”

“I don’t think so,” Crowley said thoughtfully. “Are you getting anything off of her?”

“Well, yes, but I’m not quite sure what just yet,” Aziraphale answered. “I think I might rather keep that to myself until she’s no longer listening.”

Beelzebub stopped in her tracks and turned, scowling darkly at the angel. Crowley just rolled his eyes. “Oh, come on, Beelzebub. Obviously.”

“How about an outing?” Aziraphale suggested rather suddenly.

Both demons looked at each other, surprised. “A what?” Beelzebub asked.

Crowley was rather suspicious. “Where?”

“Alnwick Garden. Our garden is flush with variety, but there is a far greater display there and that might help in planning the new section.”

Crowley frowned, his expression doubtful. “You want to take two demons on walk-about in a garden? In public?”

“I presume you can focus on the task at hand, rather than using too many demonic wiles on humans,” Aziraphale replied archly.

“Too many?” Beelzebub asked.

“Well, it would be far too much to ask that you both completely behave,” he observed primly. “I’m not a fool.”

He had a point, and now she really want to go to see the two amongst humans. “I accept your invitation,” she said. “When?”

“Tomorrow is expected to be good weather. You may want to meet us, however. It's rather a long drive.”

Crowley scoffed. “I’m sure I could shave an hour or two off.”

The angel looked at him like he was going to be ill just thinking of it, so of course Beelzebub jumped on it. “We’re doing that then.”

Aziraphale merely sighed.


	3. Chapter 3

Beelzebub would never, ever admit it, but the angel had been right: the drive was boring as Heaven. She loved how fast Crowley drove and thrilled as the world rolled by as if she was flying, but there wasn’t exactly much to do. At least flying would have been doing something, or perhaps she could have popped out from Hell at the Gardens like Aziraphale had suggested. This way, she was being passively propelled through the world. After a time, the journey was simply landscape passing by at such speeds that she could make nothing out. Aziraphale, who had been uncomfortable while they were in town, relaxed as they flew across the countryside where there were less humans to hit. After a while, Beelzebub practiced her aim by knocking over farm animals in the seconds she saw them. When that became boring, she aimed for lorries full of produce. Miraculously, no one was ever hurt, nor was there too much product destroyed. That made Beelzebub turn in her seat to glare at the angel in the back. He looked back at her stubbornly. “I’m not trying to stop you, am I?”

He had a point.

By the time they arrived, Aziraphale looked a bit frazzled as Beelzebub kept him on his toes. The battling between them was far more entertaining than the driving.

Beelzebub looked around the carpark, licking her teeth like a lion searching for a gazelle. Crowley stepped up to do what he could to distract her, but she ignored him and focused on Aziraphale. “Not impressed so far.”

Calling on all of the divine patience he could muster, Aziraphale gave her a thin smile. “We have to go in first. The Pavilion is this way.” He guided them over and queued to purchase entrance for the three of them, but Beelzebub grabbed Crowley’s arm and walked inside without a second glance from security. After a few moments, Aziraphale followed them. She had no doubt that he would make sure there was some kind of mysterious benefactor or whatnot to make up for their entrance fees.

Once properly inside, Beelzebub started to head off toward the left. Aziraphale firmly grabbed her arm, stopping her in her tracks. Both demons froze and stared down at his hand on her. Aziraphale could actually feel Crowley’s eyes burning into him as the Serpent tried to will him to undo his actions. Beelzebub merely stared at him, expression cold. Power curled inside her being, buzzing with the hungry presence of untold legions of flies.

“Not exactly wise, Principality,” she buzzed, her nature spilling into her words.

Aziraphale was familiar enough with Crowley’s hissing to know he was on dangerous ground. “I was correct regarding the car drive, Lord Beelzebub. I request you indulge me now. I have a plan.” With that, he released her arm and stepped back politely.

Beelzebub studied him for a moment, expression unreadable. She was tempted to continue tormenting him, but eventually Crowley would become cross, particularly if she broke his pet. She was sure she could damn the angel, but that might also cause Crowley to cease entertaining her and she wasn’t ready yet to challenge that.

Besides, the angel was actually trying to entertain her. She was intrigued.

Alnwick Gardens was a lot of walking. Aziraphale led the two demons first through the Bamboo Labyrinth, discussing the pros and cons of the hardy plant in any home garden. The labyrinth spilled out into the Rose Garden, a riot of beauty no matter where one looked. The variety of colors were interesting and the thorns delighted her, but then Crowley started explaining how to care for the plants. Anything that thrived off of blood meal got a positive mark from her, but it was a lot of work for not enough payout.

Next, the Serpent Garden was such a bitter disappointment that both demons were left pouting and whining about feeling cheated. There wasn’t a single serpent in sight, besides Crowley of course. Beelzebub suggested Crowley's shift and really give the visitors a treat. Considering his true size, Crowley would crush the hedges and the delightful water fountains that marked this garden, so Aziraphale dragged them both out of it quickly.

They followed the path up the right side of the Cascade, an impressive rather large water display that was at the center of Alnwick Garden, and from there drifted into the Ornamental Gardens. That was where Crowley geeked out. He slowly picked his way through the brilliant blooms, examining the glorious flowers and studying their conditions. He pointed out different flowers to Beelzebub, explaining the care of everything they found and taking the opportunity to hiss sharply at anything that did not meet his standards. Peonies, larkspur, roses, alliums, and the odd tulip hanging on desperately into the summer months made for heady perfumes and a delicious riot of colors. Aziraphale trailed behind the two demons, peacefully watching as Beelzebub took in Crowley’s lecture. She was intrigued by the toxic nature of the larkspur but the plants grew as spikes absolutely shrouded in flowers. She found them to be phallic, overzealous, and distasteful. However, there were two different alliums that caught her eye. Crowley assured her they were in the same family as garlic and onions, though these were decorative only. One was a large ball of purple flowers on a thick stem nearly as tall as her called purple gladiators. The other was a mess of smaller flowers with petals that made it look like an erupting firework, known as tumbleweed onions. Beelzebub thought they looked delightfully spindly. Then Crowley had to quickly explain why she couldn’t just take the flowers she wanted from the Garden. The heated debate lasted all the way back down the left side of the Cascade.

Finally, Beelzebub looked at the angel, unimpressed with his plans thus far. Aziraphale was smiling slightly and she sneered. “What are you so smug about? I found two stupid flowers.”

He looked far too pleased with himself. “There’s still one more garden.”

Crowley frowned. “Angel, what are you on ab… oh,” he breathed suddenly, his attention on something behind Beelzebub. “Oh, you’re crazy.” Despite that, the Serpent was suddenly grinning with delight.

Beelzebub scowled but looked behind her and over to the left of the Cascade, where Crowley was staring. There was a black wrought-iron gate with a skull and crossbones painted onto it and a sign that read  _ Poison Garden _ .

Both demons gawked even as Aziraphale led them over. “This garden is only available by scheduled tour and is riddled with cameras,” the angel said. “It would take a miracle to get in unnoticed.” With a smile he snapped his fingers and the gate slid open, admitting them.

Crowley immediately began peering at the plants, identifying them off of the small signs and explaining their uses when he knew them. There was hemlock and cannabis, mandrake and henbane. The demons were deeply entertained that angel’s trumpet was toxic. Beelzebub found belladonna to be lovely but was very disappointed that foxglove looked far too similar to larkspur for her taste. Both she and Crowley loved the castor bean plant, finding it surprisingly attractive. Beelzebub in particular was delighted to learn that one of humanity’s most deadly poisons, ricin, could be produced from it.

Beelzebub and Crowley chattered over the plants in excitement, planning where they would plant the castor beans and if the belladonna would grow well under the purple gladiator alliums she’d liked so much. They were enraptured enough that it took Crowley longer than normal to notice Aziraphale was being rather quiet.

“Everything alright there, angel?” he asked, cocking his head at the other. “You don’t look like someone who just thrilled two demons more than anyone should in public.”

Crowley was obviously teasing the angel, and Aziraphale gave him half a wry smile. “I really shouldn’t be thrilling demons at all, should I?”

“Nope. Our side. We agreed. You can thrill me all you want.”

Beelzebub just looked between the two, feeling almost uncomfortable. It was obvious Aziraphale was disappointed by something, his pleased glow now dimmed a little. She suddenly felt like an outsider, which she truly was. She wasn’t a part of  _ their side _ . She was Team Hell and she liked it that way. However, she’d actually been stupidly looking forward to having a piece of the garden and here was the one creature able to ruin it second guessing his involvement.

She gave Aziraphale a cold, regal glare. “Don’t like the castor plant?”

Aziraphale blinked at her, as if startled. “Oh, it was lovely. Not my favorite of course, but I rather see the appeal. I preferred the henbane myself.”

Beelzebub was surprised by his response. “Then why are you pouting?” she asked, puzzled.

He sighed. “Well, if you must know, I was rather hoping they might have a carnivorous plant. I suspected you might like them, but I wasn’t sure.”

She was hopelessly confused. A carnivorous plant? She would have expected to hear of such a thing in Hell. She looked at Crowley and was startled to see him looking like he rather wished the angel had kept his mouth shut.

“Crowley, explain,” she snapped.

He winced. “Eh, well, there’s this plant. It has petals like a bear trap.” He lifted his hands and held the heels together, his fingers curled like talons or claws. “When prey walks into the trap,” he closed his hands together, “they are caught and digested.”

Beelzebub perked. That did sound like her kind of thing. “Why have I not heard of these before?”

Crowley rubbed a hand at the back of his neck. “Because it’s called a Venus fly trap.”

She blinked at him. “Fly trap?”

He nodded. “It’s kind of ugly too.”

“It eats flies?”

“That one does, yes,” Aziraphale stepped in, trying to soothe her. “There are many species and they really can eat any insect.”

Beelzebub started at him. “Many species?”

He nodded a bit nervously. “Some even eat small birds and rodents.”

A feral grin slid over Beelzebub’s lips. It was her turn to grab the angel by the arm. “Tell me everything.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have never been to Alnwick Garden, nor am I a gardener, but I reason that they aren't really either and things just work for them, so let's hear it for creative license! Having said that, I did do a ton of research for this story. I hope that I didn't get too much wrong.


	4. Chapter 4

This time, Beelzebub rode in the back with Aziraphale, watching him with her sharp blue eyes as he did his best to explain what he knew about carnivorous plants. When his limited knowledge was exhausted, she stole Crowley's smartphone, figured out how to type in a question, and soon was supplied with tons of information. She started researching the various kind of carnivorous plants: pitfalls, snap traps, and flypaper ones. Some of them were lovely, others somewhat alien and hideous. As she read, Aziraphale sat in the back next to her, curious but with a small moue of distaste. His desire for knowledge but distrust of the device were warring against each other, and it was delightful. Beelzebub turned so that he could read on the phone with her, ratcheting his anxiety even higher.

When they finally arrived back at the cottage, Crowley immediately turned in his seat. “Anything interesting?” he asked, obviously trying to take stock of the two.

By then, Beelzebub was across the bench seat by Aziraphale, who was pressed to the wall of the Bently. The angel glanced up at him from the phone. "This device says there is a shop over in Glastonbury that seems to be a reputable dealer of carnivorous plants. If that is true, it may be best to start there."

“Is there a season or conditions suggested for them?” Crowley asked. “Will make a difference what it is we start with.”

"Bog-like conditions for most of them, which makes a lot of sense considering the kinds of insect activity bogs have."

“We can make the correct conditions,” Beelzebub interrupted, obviously more interested in studying her option on the phone than discussing the logistics.

“Yes,” Crowley agreed, “But it’s better for them and, frankly, less effort. We can always set them up in the greenhouse. If you mess too much with their understanding of the seasons, you’ll constantly have to keep them straight. Making them think its April in June means that, come May, you have to let them know it’s July.”

Beelzebub scowled briefly, acknowledging his point. Then she shrugged. "I've waited centuries for plans to come to fruition. I can wait for a few months."

“Then let’s go inside and plan out what you want.”

Beelzebub climbed out of the car, sure that Aziraphale was probably melting with relief behind her. Once they entered the kitchen, both he and Crowley took their shoes off at the door. Crowley then gave Beelzebub a pointed look over his sunglasses. She narrowed her eyes but chose to kick them off. However, she did leave them sprawled in the center of the doorway, which Aziraphale fixed with a gesture.

Crowley dug around and pulled out a notebook and pencil, gesturing for Beelzebub to sit. He began sketching while the angel fussed about silently, preparing snacks and drink.

"Alright, this is our garden and the surrounding area," Crowley said. Beelzebub was surprised that he was a pretty decent sketcher. "There's some space to our property beyond the greenhouse that hasn't been developed." He gestured to the area in question. "You want the castor bean, a few carnivores, the gladiators, belladonna, and tumbleweed onions. Anything else strikes your fancy? Any edibles?"

Frankly, Beelzebub was a little stunned that he remembered all of that. He was good at making plans; it was easy to forget some times how much planning could go into the work Crowley did. She considered the layout of the garden before her. "No food," Beelzebub replied. A part of her was tempted to add henbane, but she didn't want to make it seem she was doing it to please the angel, who had liked it.

“We need to find out who likes what kind of shade,” Crowley muttered, thinking. “Where can we get castor bean plants?”

* * *

They made their plans, and, over the next few weeks, Beelzebub and Crowley wandered about purchasing or harvesting what they wanted. When Beelzebub asked why they actually paid for things, Crowley shrugged.

“Low yield of reward,” he answered, studying the earth where they planted four gladiator bulbs. “Sure, it hurts the store owner a little. Meanwhile, you have to plan the theft, make sure you haven’t been recorded (fixing that is a headache), and then there is Aziraphale’s disappointed face. A lot of consequence for very little sin that, by the way, you committed. The goal is to get them to do it. Like encourage humans to steal something for you instead Still low reward, but at least you’re getting them to sin rather than doing it yourself.”

Beelzebub had never really had to think about such things. She knew where her peoples' talents laid and could assign them to the proper jobs. Her work was more political, dealing with other demons, which was something else entirely. Taking human reaction into consideration made a lot of sense. It began to be less surprising that someone as good at his job as Crowley would eventually go native, understanding human actions and reactions the way he did.

How he got along with the angel still baffled her.

Slowly, over time, Beelzebub's section of the garden took shape. It was small, and she couldn't be there every day to tend it, so Crowley helped keep an eye on things. When she was there, he was close by, hands in the dirt beside her. When she wanted no help, and his garden needed no work, Crowley would sometimes shift into his enormous serpent form and drape himself about, soaking up the sun.

Not far from them, on that surprisingly comfortable stone bench, the angel would sit. There were always snacks and drinks for them on a tray by his side. He would sometimes read a book but often just watch them, like some kind of Victorian chaperone. Beelzebub never sensed jealously or distrust from him, not since that day in the Bentley, so she wasn't sure what his intentions were, but he was never less than polite and always watching.


	5. Chapter 5

The seasons rolled as they apparently did. Beelzebub spent many a day glaring at the snow that buried her plants, but then Spring came, and shoots and sprouts began to appear. Both gardens were terrified of both demons, but only Crowley's garden had any experience of Aziraphale's goodwill. He wouldn't speak to the plants directly since Crowley would whine about him undoing hard work. Still, a gentle smile to any shoot would immediately have it trying twice as hard to impress him.

Beelzebub's alliums were the first to bloom. It didn't take long for the fist-sized ball of gladiator blossoms and the starbursts of the tumbleweed onions to make their appearance. When they did, Beelzebub would often find herself sitting on the path before them, studying them critically. She wasn't searching for imperfections; instead, she was trying to decide how she felt about them.

She thought the flowers were attractive. She had enjoyed terrifying the plants and the hard physical work of digging around. Beelzebub had been a soldier once, and the physical labor was pleasant. Still, she considered if this was an efficient use of her time. There was no sin, no glory for Satan. She couldn't even sow discord between Crowley and Aziraphale. The anger was always watching, and the only thing that might cause a fight was seducing Crowley. The thought left her gagging. She had no interest in doing any of the things that she knew they did two each other.

Crowley sank down next to her, peering aggressively at the flowers. “Something disappointing you?”

She didn't look at her, her eyes focused on tracing the spindly petals of the tumbleweed onion. "No. But I suspect this isn't an efficient use of my time."

“And being cranky in Hell is?”

"Yes," she said simply. "It makes others miserable."

He gave a half shrug, acknowledging the point. “But have you been bored?”

She frowned at the flowers, then glanced over at Crowley. “No.”

“So, if you like the results and you’re not so bored that you’re going to disrupt Hell’s operations, what’s the problem?”

“And if Satan finds out?”

“You’re ingratiating yourself with a demon who discovered a cure for holy water and his pet angel.”

“Near as I can tell, the answer is a lot of exposure to divine body fluids via frequent sex.” Beelzebub looked sideways at him as he choked, kind of curious. “We don’t need sex. Why would you do that?”

The Serpent's flush spread down his neck to disappear under his shirt. "Ah. Well, it feels terrific and makes Aziraphale deliriously happy."

She nearly sneered, glancing over at the angel. Aziraphale was peacefully spreading cheese onto a cracker. He glanced up, meeting her eye, and she knew he could hear them and wasn't the least bit ashamed.

“Has it always been like this?” she asked, a bit annoyed. “You two rubbing yourselves against each other?”

Crowley looked like he was dying a little inside. "No. That started after we became free agents. We just hung out before then, enjoying each others' company. Kind of like this." He gestured between her and him.

That sent a shock of something through Beelzebub, something similar to pleasure but far less violent than that feeling usually was. "You're okay with this?"

Crowley blinked at her. “Hanging out? Yeah.”

Beelzebub squirmed slightly and glanced at Aziraphale. He was calmly eating a cracker and watching with an unreadable expression. She kind of wanted to claw his face off.

* * *

They watched the garden through Summer as the flowers came and went. The carnivorous pitcher plants entertained Beelzebub a great deal and smelled a bit cloying but nice. One day in late summer, Beelzebub was trying to tempt flies that weren't her into her little pets, much to Crowley's entertainment. Aziraphale was sitting nearby reading. Suddenly, he closed his book with a firm snap.

“I think I would like to grow something as well,” he announced.

Both demons looked up at him in surprise. “Angel, you spoil the flowers,” Crowley complained.

“No, no. Something of my own.”

"Jealous?" Beelzebub sneered, hiding a kernel of worry. A displeased angel could interrupt what she had going here, and she liked her garden and, more importantly, Crowley's company.

“Not at all,” Aziraphale replied. “I can look upon all of your hard work and be dazzled without lifting a finger. I simply…” here he squirmed a little, “have an idea.”

Crowley shrugged. “Tell us what it is. We’ll make it happen.”

“I’m sorry, my dear, but this I want to try on my own.”

Crowley and Beelzebub looked at each other, both mystified and concerned. “How much space do you want?” Crowley asked.

“Maybe the other side of Beelzebub?” the angel asked. “Though I’ll leave her some room to expand.”

He couldn't be irritated at her presence if he was encouraging her to take up more space. That helped Beelzebub to relax a little, and she looked at Crowley. As one, they turned to Aziraphale and shrugged.

The next day, Aziraphale was not outside with them while they worked. It was the first time ever that he’d let them alone in the garden, though he made sure they had refreshments.

Crowley and Beelzebub nibbled on the food while they considered Aziraphale's plans.

"Maybe he's murdering Gabriel?" she suggested, licking the cheese off of a cracker. "That's the sort of thing I'd want to do alone."

“I would be so proud of him.” Crowley sighed as he closed his eyes and tried to imagine it. “It’s definitely a surprise for us, but we’ll see if it goes as planned.”

She sipped her water, both aggravated and a bit worried. "Aziraphale says he's not jealous. Do you think he's lying?"

Crowley snorted. "He's ridiculous if he is. No offense, Beeze, but if I had to choose between you and him, I promise I'll take care of your trumpet plants once you're gone."

Beelzebub shrugged. She wasn't surprised by that. As she carefully replaced the cleaned cracker onto the plate, Aziraphale appeared with a white trellis structure arched like a gate or doorway. It was definitely large enough to walk through and solidly built. It had to be heavy, but the angel maneuvered it without apparent effort. She arched an eyebrow.

“He could throw me with one hand,” she mused.

The Serpent snorted. “He can throw  _ me _ with one hand. Hey, angel?” he called.

Aziraphale was glancing around, considering the area. “Yes, dear?” he replied without looking up.

“Why do you need a trellis?”

He blinked and looked up. “Why, for climbing, obviously.”

“Oh, obviously,” Crowley mocked.

Beelzebub frowned. “He’s not going to climb that.”

“No, for climbing plants. He probably has roses in mind.”

Aziraphale struggled, setting the trellis where he wanted it than figuring out how to fix it into the ground. Both demons merely watched. Crowley considered offering help, but Beelzebub just arched a brow. Aziraphale had wanted to do it on his own.

Each day, Aziraphale set up another trellis. Each day, the demons watched silently, greatly entertained. On the fourth day, Aziraphale appeared absolutely swamped with vines.

“What? Seriously?” Crowley burst out. “What’s that?”

Aziraphale dropped the plants carefully and looked over at them. “Chestnut vine,” he replied, then set about planting them and leading them over the trellis arch.

“Why?” Crowley mumbled. Beelzebub stole his mobile and looked it up.

"Apparently it's great indoors, is an aggressive climber, and grows fast," she said, frowning. She looked up at Crowley. "It's related to the grape?"

“Oi! You can’t get wine from that!” he called out to Aziraphale.

The angel gave him an absolutely withering look. “Really, my dear?” he then happily ignored them and continued to work with the trellis.

Shortly after the vines were brought in, Crowley and Beelzebub had to give up watching Aziraphale work on his vines. It was fall, and Crowley did have both a vegetable garden and a small orchard. They were the only places he didn't yell and torture the plants. Apparently, Aziraphale worried over the idea of eating things the demon terrified.

During the harvest, Crowley asked Beelzebub for help. They would work hard, harvesting and picking and cleaning up, and Aziraphale would take the results of their labor and make delicious pies and cakes, zucchini bread and carrot cake, and prepared lovely dinners for the weary demons.

Beelzebub found the food delicious, but the work hard.

It was common during those times that, when Aziraphale went to check on the chestnut vines, Crowley and Beelzebub would sit on the ground at the stone bench and rest, enjoying the few remaining sunny days of fall. Exhausted from clean, culling, and harvesting, both would often close their eyes, resting.

Beelzebub was barely drowsing when she felt a pressure on her shoulder. She opened her eyes to see Crowley asleep, his head having sagged onto her shoulder. She stared at him for a long moment, disbelieving. It was strange to her that anyone might feel so comfortable and safe with her. Since becoming a demon, no one trusted her, not even Lucifer, whom she Fell for. That was the way it should be. Yet, this was as small and delicate as the flowers they tended, and equally easy to crush in her first. But if she did, she would never have it again.

Movement whipped Beelzebub’s head around, a curse already on the tip of her tongue. Aziraphale was calmly standing there, waiting for her to recognize him. When she did, her tongue seemed to tie in knots. Surely the angel would be angry, suspecting her of seducing Crowley. Instead, Aziraphale walked up and took his wine glass off the tray above Beelzebub’s head. He then wandered off, leaving them alone.

Beelzebub was flabbergasted. Not only did Crowley feel sage, but an angel was trusting her. The temptation to make them both regret their faith in her swelled, but then Crowley nuzzled in with a soft sigh, still asleep. It was weird and vulnerable, and she found that she wanted to value it and keep it around at least for a little while. Maybe later she could crush them.

Decided, Beelzebub relaxed, enjoying the weight of the other demon pressed against her side.


	6. Chapter 6

Beelzebub glared out the window at the storm, scowling up at the dark clouds. It was deep in Autumn and had been seven days since she'd worked in her garden, a project for Hell keeping her busy. Asmodeus had been trying to move in on some of her people, which wasn't going to happen. With the situation resolved and the appropriate parties chastised (and by chastised she meant tortured), she had wanted to relax.

“I don’t see why we can’t miracle it away,” she groused again.

Crowley poured the tea into cups and sliced a wedge of cake. "Well, I know my miracles can't quite chase off a storm, but you're the prince of Hell. Maybe you can, but even if you did, everything is wet."

The weather wasn't really her thing, and he had a good point about the ground. She didn't, however, have to like it.

Turning away, she spied several decks of playing cards stacked on a cabinet. She cocked her head, walking over to pick at them. “What are these for?”

Crowley glanced over and scowled. "A card game Aziraphale and I decided to try. Some games he's really good at, but he gets so delighted and collecting the sets in that game that it's too frustrating to play."

"What's the game called?"

“Hand and foot, of all things.”

Decided, Beelzebub brought over the cards. “Teach me.”

Two hours later, the table use upended, cards flying everywhere, and the two demons were shouting and snarled. Aziraphale dashed into the room, alarmed.

“You’re not supposed to cheat,” Crowley hissed, gangs peeping from under his lips.

“Prove it,” Beelzebub buzzed back, blue eyes narrowed. “I don’t recall you following that rule.”

“That’s quite enough of that,” Aziraphale snapped. CAke and tea, long forgotten, were strewn about on the floor along with the playing cards. One cup and a plate were brown in the fall. The angel’s eyes raked the mess, dismayed.

The two demons finally looked around at the mess they’d made. They both shifted a bit sheepishly, but they were also too annoyed at the other to admit wrongdoing.

Aziraphale picked up the table and set it to rights, making sure it wasn’t damaged. “What on Earth happened?” he asked, fixing the broken dishes.

“Beelzebub was cheating,” Crowley hissed.

“As were you!” Beelzebub buzzed back.

“You do cheat when you’re bored, my dear,” Aziraphale said, distracted as he cleaned up the food.

“Two players aren’t exactly exciting, angel.” Then Crowley’s eyes shot to Beelzebub’s just as she looked at him. Together, then turned to stare at Aziraphale.

“No cheating,” Crowley negotiated.

“With magic,” she countered. If you can do it with your own hands, it’s fair game.”

“Agreed.”

Aziraphale finally had it all cleaned up and turned. “No--” and he cut himself off, suddenly aware of the two demons staring intently at him. “Yes?”

Crowley created two more decks and pulled the angel to the table.

Aziraphale didn't protest playing, realizing pretty quickly that it was better to not have two bored demons locked up in his house. He played as he usually did, carefully building his sets with pleasure. Having the buffer between Crowley and Beelzebub also helped to keep them calm until the prince grabbed the angel's wrist and revealed a card up his sleeve.

Beelzebub frowned, pulled the card Aziraphale had switched out from his hand. “You exchanged a joker, a wild card worth fifty points, for a five?”

Aziraphale was both blushing and prickling up. “I don’t like using the wild card. I like the clean sets,” he said defensively.

“Angel, you don’t even have a book of fives,” Crowley said, exasperated.

Beelzebub just stared at Aziraphale. "You're cheating to lose?" she asked, flabbergasted.

“It’s not cheating if I’m not doing it to win,” he replied primly. “Besides, you said, ‘if you can do it with your own hands, it’s fair game.’”

“Why do you never do card tricks in your magic shows?” Crowley asked curiously. “It’s like the one thing you’re good at.

Aziraphale set his cards onto the discard pile, folding the hand. “Well, they’re rather boring, aren’t they?”

Crowley's eyes practically rolled into his head before he buried his face in his hands. Beelzebub nearly cackled in his misery.

~~~

Once early Spring came around, 'aggressive climber' and 'fast grower' turned out to be an understatement regarding Aziraphale's vines. In one month, they were well established. In three, they had grown a full meter. Aziraphale watered them when needed and murmured to them, and when he walked under the archway, the large, vibrant leaves seemed to reach for him. When he was out of sight, Crowley and Beelzebub descended on the vines, searching for a speck out of place or a leaf not quite right.

“If you disappoint him…” Crowley hissed in warning. The vines ignored him, firmly aware of their angelic protection.

Once they reached over the trellis to the earth again, the vines began creeping over the ground. Aziraphale encouraged them toward the other two trellises. It was about that time that Beelzebub saw the protrusion. She examined the surrounding vines but saw nothing similar.

“Crowley,” Beelzebub barked.

Crowley glanced up, elbows deep in a flower bed. When he saw where she was, he immediately brushed off and went over, almost excited to harass the vines. Aziraphale was over on the bench, drinking wine with a book on his lap. He watched the two demons placidly.

Crowley leaned in. The protrusion was a ball growing from the body of the vine, about the size of a brussel sprout.

"Angel, I think your vine has a parasite," he said frowning.

“That’s nice, dear,” Aziraphale replied calmly.

Crowley stared at him. Don’t you want to get rid of it?”

"Whatever for? It's a living being the same as any other."

“It will damage the hose, Aziraphale.”

Aziraphale arched an eyebrow. “Do the vines appear unhealthy?”

Both Crowley and Beelzebub studied the vines carefully. They didn’t seem concerned at all with the parasite growing out of them, the whole thing flush and healthy.

The demons looked at each other, then Beelzebub decided to try. She tended to leave Aziraphale to Crowley, unsure of the angel and not wanting to press in on their relationship or involve herself in disagreements, despite the constant itch to take Crowley’s side. She didn’t want to lose her invitation.

“What if it starts to kill your vines?” she asked, studying the angel.

"Then, I will do better to care for it." He looked so at peace with it that Beelzebub suspected he knew what the parasite was. She glanced at Crowley, who looked like he was going to tie himself up in knots.

As time went on, both demons probably spent more time staring at Aziraphale's vines than their own plants. It seemed to amuse the angel a lot. The little protrusion became big, darkening until they looked purple and dark. They, for there were four, grew to the size of cabbages, then larger still.

One day, Beelzebub arrived early in the morning to a smell that was both repulsive and wonderfully sweet. She frowned, walking toward the arch as she did whenever she visited. To her surprise, one of the parasitic cabbages had unfolded into an enormous, almost grotesque flower. It was approximately the size of her head with five broad petals that were a fleshy reddish-brown in color and white patterning on them. The center of the flower was a deep basin with a platform that had a bunch of spikes on it. She breathed deeply, the smell both harsh on the back of her tongue and wonderfully pleasant. Crowley needed to see this.

Beelzebub raced to the house, abandoning her coat and sash in the mudroom. She didn't bother with her shoes; she was too excited to slow down. She streaked silently up the stairs and threw open the bedroom door.

“Crowley!”

The angel was on his side in bed, pleasantly arranged so that he could easily read from the book in front of him. Crowley was wrapped tightly about him, his torso bare. For one horrible moment, Beelzebub worried she had interrupted one of those sex moments, but then noticed that Aziraphale was closed fully in his own pajamas.

Aziraphale jerked startled at Beelzebub's arrival. Crowley shot upright, eyes immediately a solid yellow.

“What’s wrong? It wasn’t me,” he mumbled thickly. Fortunately, he was wearing pajama bottoms, if not the shirt.

“The parasite cabbage bloomed,” Beelzebub said, excited. She was about to grab Crowley and drag him fro the bed.

Crowley stared at her stupidly even as Aziraphale sat up, carefully closing his book. “Has it, now?” the angel replied. He sounded almost nervous.

“Parasite cabbage?” The Crowley woke up. “Wait, what? What is it?”

“Disgusting,” she said with a wide grin.

Crowley scrambled out of bed, and the two raced outside. A short distance away, Crowley gagged and covered his mouth. "What the Heaven is that?"

Beelzebub excitedly pointed to the flower. Crowley stepped up, staring at it. "You weren't kidding about disgusting," he observed, looking slightly green. He glanced over at Aziraphale, who was perfectly dressed. "What is this, angel?"

Beelzebub noticed Aziraphale tug at his waistcoat, obviously nervous. "A corpse lily," he angel said calmly. " _ Rafflesia arnoldii _ . It’s native to Indonesia and is a parasitic plant that only grows on  _ Tetrastigma _ vines. It is endangered and challenging to breed."

“Why is it here?” Crowley asked, exasperated.

Aziraphale shifted slightly. "Well, it has a unique pollinator. The design and the smell of the flower is mean to…" here, he hesitated. "I was a bit worried that I might have been insensitive with the carnivores, is all."

Beelzebub stared at him for a long, stunned moment. "Let me get this straight. You stole an endangered plant that smells like rotting flesh and purposefully cultivated it and it's host because it attracts flies, and you thought I might like it?"

"I raised a plant that happens to have an endangered species in it so that it can be carefully cultivated, and the seeds can be sent back to its natural environment, and because I thought you might enjoy it," he corrected.

Something clicked in Beelzebub's brain. She absently listened to Crowley whine about tasting the stench of the flowers and eye the remaining three buds with despair. Crowley wasn't all bad and did plenty of things to please those who appreciated him. In turn, Aziraphale was not all good, happy to justify what he wanted to make Crowley happy. And now the angel had done it for her.

"You realize you have made a fatal error, Principality," she practically cooed, tingling from the flower's scent.

Aziraphale looked genuinely unsure, prepared to hide his disappointment. "Have I?"

"Angels should not make a habit of collecting demons. We're selfish creatures, and whatever we claim is ours forever."

Aziraphale blinked at her, then flushed slightly. "You like them then?"

"You got me an endangered flower that smells like rotting meant. I'm about ready to order Crowley to do that sex thing for me."

Finally, Crowley perked up. "Not that I'm complaining, but is this the kind of thing I do now for you?"

“Aziraphale here just told me he doesn’t mind sharing you with me and likes having me around,” Beelzebub stated, eyes shining. She was so excited, she could barely sit still.

Crowley's eyebrows rose, and he grinned at Aziraphale.

Aziraphale’s blush darkened. “I’m going to make breakfast.”

Beelzebub slipped her arm through Azriaphale’s as Crowley grabbed the angel’s other side. “Now, my principality, tell em all about my new darlings.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is probably not what most people think when it comes to a gardening fic, but I loved the idea of Beelzebub being introduced to Rafflesia and carnivorous plants. I took a lot of creative licenses based on the idea that things work the way these three believe they do. As for the relationships, Aziraphale was definitely the more romantic partner, trying to make Beelzebub feel at home. I am not personally aromantic, so I hope Beelzebub's growing relationship with both Crowley and Aziraphale came out in a way that represents aromanticism well.


End file.
